


Into the Woods

by Tonight_At_Noon



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, F/M, Mild Sexual Content, Romance, Some Humor, and darcy and bucky are counsellors at said summer camp, enjoy, where project rebirth has become a summer camp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-10 09:59:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15947021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tonight_At_Noon/pseuds/Tonight_At_Noon
Summary: A rivalry born in the snowy New York winter comes to a head every summer at a camp in southern Virginia.





	Into the Woods

**Author's Note:**

> Guys, you have no idea how long it took me to write the summary for this story. I hope it was enough to draw you in, and I hope the story is enough to keep you around.
> 
> Enjoy.

The alarm on her phone starts blaring at an unbelievably unreasonable hour. Pulled harshly from a wonderful dream in which she was being led into a glorious blue ocean by a faceless man with the body of a Greek god, Darcy Lewis groans. Her eyes slip open, and the cruel, early-morning morning sun bites her. She reaches out to the small table by her bed and switches off the loud music, not surprised when she spots Natasha in the bed next to hers with her eyes still shut tight. That girl could sleep through a rock concert during an earthquake

Darcy remains sitting upright on her uncomfortable mattress for a moment, not yet ready to face the day. She has only one hour before she has to get the girls up. One hour to herself before the mayhem begins.

Not that she doesn't like working as a camp counsellor. She does, deep down. It pays good enough money. She gets free meals cooked by a chef who studied in France. Employers like it on a resume. All good things. But it definitely has its drawbacks. Like the mosquitos, which chew and gnaw on your skin no matter how much bug spray you've doused on yourself. The heat isn't too enjoyable either. Sure, it gets hot in New York where she grew up, but southern-virginia-hot and upstate-new-york-hot are two vastly different things.

The kids are one of those double-edged swords. On the one hand, they can be sweet and generous and let you braid their hair while scary stories are shared before lights out. But they also lie, steal, refuse to participate, and complain about a lot of silly things Darcy is confident never bothered her when she was their age.

Clearly, the good outweighs the bad. This is Darcy's third summer at Camp Rebirth, which sounds like a camp for some cultish community, or maybe for one of those disgusting conversion therapy places, but is really only called that because it's rumoured the lake is actually the fountain of youth. Spoiler alert, it isn't. But the name has stuck, and it even offers a placebo effect. Darcy is always convinced her skin is smoother after spending time in the water.

Darcy's backup alarm goes off. She jumps, rushing to turn it off, and decides there is no point in delaying the inevitable. She has already lost ten minutes. Climbing out of bed, she searches through her suitcase for a clean blue t-shirt—hers and Natasha's freshman girls are the Bluebells—and grabs her shower caddy. She exits the cabin after slipping her contact lenses in. Immediately, she is overwhelmed by the humidity. Which is made a million times worse by the blazing sun.

Another positive about the camp is its location. If you were to take away the bugs and the heavy air, you would be left with a stunning landscape. Right outside the rows of cabins is the lake where all of the teams will be spending the day. The water glows in the sunlight and as she stands there, Darcy counts five jumping fish.

To her left is the creepy wooded path that leads to the abandoned cabins where the kids play paintball, and to the right is the not creepy path leading to the other activities. There are trees all around standing tall and mighty. Unfortunately, none of them are currently providing her any protection from the blistering heat.

Darcy's projected path leads her behind the cabins to the ancient shower rooms that are right next to the main building. Wading through the thick atmosphere, Darcy counts her steps as she walks towards the showers. Just being outside for a minute has already caused her hair to frizz and her underarms to pour out sweat.

She is almost safe in the confines of the shower rooms when she sees him coming out of his cabin. In his arms are his own change of clothes and one of those all-in-one shampoo, conditioner, body wash bottles all men appear to have.

Stopping short, she holds her breath, praying he doesn't look her way. She hates running into him before she's showered. He stretches, and the hem of his white t-shirt rides up. A strip of tanned skin, the dent of his abs, glare at Darcy as she stares. Finishing with a yawn, he lowers his arms and deliberately—so, so deliberately, like he'd been waiting for this opportunity—turns his head in her direction.

Darcy rolls her eyes hard and breathes a deep, frustrated sigh through her nose. She walks up to him.

"Morning, neighbour," he says sweetly, offering her one of his trademark, i-know-all-your-secrets grins. His beard is gone. He must have shaved last night. She spots various tiny red bumps lining his cheeks and jaw. "Don't you look lovely on this fine day."

Bucky Barnes. Fellow counsellor, charming asshole, and the leader of the let's-annoy-darcy-until-she-screams club.

Depositing his clothes to his other hand, he runs his long fingers through his thick hair. He'd cut it recently. You can tell, because when he fiddles with it, he looks confused when there isn't more to play with.

"There is nothing  _fine_  about this day," she says. "It's so disgustingly hot. I can't wait to be back home in New York tomorrow."

"But it's the Lake Games today, Darcy!" he shouts, happy as ever. That is something about Bucky you have to get used to. He's always so damn happy. "Get excited about it!"

"Oh, I am excited," she insists. The Lake Games are a tradition at the camp. On the second to last day, each grade, 7th through 12th, compete for prizes. It's boys versus girls, and it gets very, very messy. She gets closer and lowers her voice. "Do you know why?"

A dark glimmer passes over Bucky's eyes. He bends, giant that he is, to better hear Darcy. "Why?"

"Because," Darcy says, "my team is going to crush yours."

Returning to his full heigh, Bucky harrumphs. "No, no, no.  _My_  team is going to win."

"Dream on, Buck. I've been training my girls for all of the events from the moment they arrived."

"And you think I haven't been training my guys?"

"I know you have. I've been watching," she says.

"That's cheating!" he complains.

"It's not cheating. This isn't the Olympics. There are no rules about not watching you losers swim in the water. I'm gonna win this year's bet, and there's nothing you can do about it."

"You wish. Steve, it's cheating isn't it?" Bucky says, looking over at the main building.

Steve Rogers, the head counsellor, is sitting in his usual rocking chair on the long porch outside the cafeteria. It's his favourite spot because he can see just about everything from there. Darcy can't count how many times this summer she's heard him yell at some poor kid for trying to covertly break a rule. They always stop whatever it is they're doing and look around with wide eyes, shocked because they thought nobody could see them.

But Steve sees all.

He's looking at Darcy and Bucky with reproach. "It isn't cheating," he says. Bucky's face falls in betrayal. He and Steve go way back—they used to come to this camp as teens. "And stop flirting," he adds warningly.

"Us?" Darcy says, stepping away from Bucky. "Flirting? Puh-lease. This guy wishes I would flirt with him."

"As if I'd ever flirt with  _you_." Bucky laughs mockingly. "In your dreams, Darce."

In her dreams. Right. "You flirt with everything that moves. Even things that don't move. You flirt with your food."

"I do not—"

"—Guys, this is exactly what I'm talking about," Steve says, frustrated, interrupting their back-and-forth. "Just get showered already and leave each other alone."

Darcy freezes, noticing how close she and Bucky are standing. When did that happen? She clutches her things to her chest and abandons the boys without another word, heading for the girls' side of the shower rooms.

There is a rule at this camp. Boys and girls are not allowed to fraternise.

There is another rule at this camp. Boy counsellors and girl counsellors are under no circumstances allowed to fraternise.

Kids have a couple of chances. If they get caught holding hands or kissing, it's a warning and light punishment. They don't get to play whatever the game is that day, or they don't get a dessert. If it happens again, they get a call home and have to sit out of a week's worth of activities.

If they are caught a third time, they are immediately sent home.

In her three summers at the camp, Darcy has only known this to happen once.

But the camp is less lenient with the counsellors. They don't get three strikes. One infraction and they are out of there with no pay and no chance of returning next summer.

Darcy hasn't known this to happen, but she does know that her fellow workers don't heed the warning. Two months in the hot Virginia woods with no cell service and no access to the outside world made for some feverish sexual tension.

Her shower is on the cool side, but Darcy doesn't mind. The cold water revives her and strips her body of the sweat it had accumulated since yesterday. She washes her hair, humming to herself, and listens for Bucky the other side of the wall. He always sings in the shower, and right on cue, as if he could read her mind, she hears the starting notes of "Hello, I Love You."

Smiling to herself, she finishes with her shower and goes to wake Nat and the girls up.

At breakfast, her group are giddy for the day to start. Nat and Darcy have been talking up the seriousness of winning the Lake Games since they got here. Each girl has their strength—a strength on which they have been improving all summer. Bucky's guys don't stand a chance, which is good, because the stakes are high this year.

She never should have let Bucky decide on the wager.

Halfway through eating, Darcy notices a shift in the conversation.

"But he's not, like,  _hot_  hot, you know?" one of the girls, Cindy, says.

"He is too  _hot_ hot," Rachel argues. "I've never seen a better-looking 15 year-old in my life."

They are back to discussing the attractiveness of the guys at the camp. It's an almost daily occurrence. The girls go through each age group, deciding among them who they think is the sexiest, the kindest, the whatever-est.

Darcy rolls her eyes at Natasha, who responds with a brief shrug. At least they have already gone over final strategies for the Lake Games. When the boy convo starts, it's impossible to regain their attention.

Behind her, the doors to the cafeteria burst open. She doesn't have to look to know who has just entered. Cracking voices, loud and disruptive, crowd the room. Her table stops talking, and Darcy watches their eyes frantically scan the scene behind her, each of them looking for one person and one person only.

She sees the exact moment they spot him. Their round cheeks go pink. Their pupils dilate the tiniest amount. Some of the girls actually sigh, while others can't stop themselves from giggling.

"He's still the winner," Rachel says dreamily.

"Yeah," everyone else murmurs in agreement, their eyes following him as he moves about behind Darcy.

"You know," Nat says, her mouth full of scrambled egg. She points her fork at Darcy. "She doesn't think he's attractive."

Snapped out of their trance, the table glares at Darcy incredulously.

"What! How can you not think he's attractive?" Cindy exclaims. She sounds as if Darcy has just betrayed her in the most egregious way. The other girls nod their heads.

"She doesn't even  _like_ him," Nat adds.

Darcy glowers at the redhead. "Why are we bringing this up right before the games? I don't want them to feel sorry for him and lose on purpose."

"How has it not come up before now?" Cindy asks. "You guys are always looking at each other. And I've seen you guys talking before!"

"I don't go around declaring my hatred for random people," Darcy says. "And those looks are more like evil glares. And our conversations are more badmouthing than anything else."

Nat is clearly enjoying herself. Taking another bite of egg, she says, "You guys wanna hear the story?"

"What story?" Rachel asks.

"The story of why Darcy doesn't like Bucky."

"Yes!" the girls say in unison.

Darcy rolls her eyes and sits back in her chair, waiting for Nat to begin.

Natasha leans over her plate. Her voice menacingly quiet, she says, "Darcy and Bucky are both students at NYU. Did you guys know that?" Some of the group nods, some shake their heads. "Well, when they were freshman, they were both living in the same dorm. Not in the same dorm room, Michelle, just the same building," she adds. "Don't look so scandalised. Anyway, one night, in the middle of winter, Darcy was in the shower when the fire alarm went off. In college, in your dorms, if the fire alarm goes off, no matter what you're doing, you have to immediately exit the building. Darcy thought she could get away with staying in the shower. She thought it was just a drill. But someone came in and said,  _You have to get out now, it's a real emergency!_ "

"No way," Rachel says.

"Yes way," Nat says. "Darcy shut off her shower immediately, wrapped herself up in her dressing gown, and ran outside. Darcy, how was the weather that night?"

Darcy shivers in remembrance. "Oh, it was great. Snowing, in fact."

Natasha nods. "She had to be outside in the freezing, snowy, New York winter wearing nothing more than a dressing gown and her shower flip-flops."

The girls look petrified.

"But what does that have to do with her not liking Bucky?" Michelle asks.

At this point, Nat is smiling. This is her favourite part of the story. "It turns out the reason everyone had to file out into the snow was because one Mr. Bucky Barnes had started a fire in his dorm room. And Darcy has never forgiven him for it."

Everyone at the table whispers amongst themselves. Several of them glance over at her.

"How long ago was it?" Rachel asks.

Darcy is about to respond, but Nat takes over. "Two and a half years."

"And you're still mad about it? You're crazy to hold such a grudge against him!" Rachel blurts, impassioned.

"I'm not crazy," Darcy defends. "I got a really bad cold that lasted two weeks. People laughed at me for being practically naked in the snow. And it's all his fault. And besides, it may be the reason I started disliking him, but it's not the only reason. He's a jerk!" The table, including Natasha, don't look convinced. "I used to think he was cute, too, but—"

"Used to think who was cute?"

Darcy freezes and holds back a shudder as his voice sneaks against her ear. The girls' mouths all drop open. Commanding her skin to quit flushing, she says the first name that comes into her head. "John Travolta."

"Ew. You used to have a crush on John Travolta? That's so gross."

Darcy turns abruptly in her chair. Startled, Bucky takes a half-step back. "It isn't gross. Before he got mixed up in all of that creepy Scientology stuff, he was really good-looking. I would have given my life for Danny Zuko."

"You know," Natasha says as Darcy and Bucky continue their stare down, "Bucky kinda looks like Danny Zuko."

Darcy whips around. "What?" both she and Bucky say.

"Yeah . . . right down to the dimpled chin," Nat observes. "Hey, Bucky, you should style your hair into a DA."

"What's a DA?" Bucky asks.

"Don't answer that," Darcy says before Natasha opens her mouth.

Bucky's hands come down on Darcy's shoulders. She jerks in surprise, but the movement doesn't phase him. His thumbs dig into her back, right where the tightest knots are. He rubs them as he addresses the table, oblivious to the girls' lovestruck eyes. "Well, look, I only came by to wish you guys luck at the Games this afternoon. I'm sure it'll be a great fight." He drops his hands and departs. All of the freshman girls stare after him.

Darcy's shoulders sag. Normally, she would have bucked him off, but her mattress is particularly lumpy this summer and her back has been in need of a good massage.

When everyone is finished eating, Darcy explains what they'll be doing in the two hours they have before the Lake Games start. She gives everyone a task, double-checking to make sure they understand what they have to do. Everyone nods in affirmation, and an electric hum enters the cafeteria. Soon, they'll all be in the water, competing for bragging rights and various prizes. Her girls can hardly contain their excitement as they exit the cafeteria, each of them chanting the group's cheer.

On her way out, she catches Bucky staring at her. He winks, smirking, before returning his attention to his team. Darcy shakes her head. She can't wait to win the bet.

—

"What a good day," Nat says sleepily, changing out of her lake-water stained clothes into pyjamas. "We got a great team this summer."

"We did," Darcy agrees, stripping herself of her own damp clothes. She opens her suitcase and stuffs the dirty clothes into a trash bag. She pulls out a pair of jeans and a white top.

They did it. The freshman girls beat the freshman boys in every single Lake Games event. The final task was the relay, the trickiest event, but her girls pulled through and defeated the boys without any difficulty. Darcy and Nat couldn't stop screaming with happiness, jumping in the water to celebrate with their team.

The hour is late now. The festivities are over and everyone is in their own cabin. Tomorrow, the kids and counsellors will head home.

Natasha gets into bed. Yawning, she says, "Why aren't you getting into your PJs?"

Darcy pulls her top over her head and buttons up her jeans. "I'm gonna go for a quick walk."

"Oh, yeah. Why do you always walk right before bed? Aren't you creeped out by the woods?" Nat asks. "You know they're haunted, right?"

Darcy smiles at her roommate. "They're not haunted. Those are just stories. Besides, the exercise helps me sleep."

"Whatever. Don't come crying to me when you get murdered by a crazy man with a machete."

"I won't."

Darcy switches off the light and heads out. The moon is on full display tonight, shining brightly in the sky, accompanied by thousands of glittering stars. Its reflection on the water is more beautiful than the sun's. The silvery lake moves with the late-summer breeze, sending ripples over the rocks that border the water.

Watching the small waves as she passes the lake, Darcy heads for the darkened portion of the woods. The night is still except for the various animals. Croaking frogs, chirping crickets, scampering rabbits. Their sounds accompany Darcy as she heads deeper into the trees.

She vibrates with a mixture of trepidation of excitement the further she gets from the main cabins. Sleep is so far from her mind, though her body is showing signs of drowsiness in her languid steps. But the air is crisp and sweet-scented, and is enough to keep her head up.

Just beyond are the abandoned cabins. Moonlight filters through the leafy branches, offering strips of white light on the ground. The noises from the animals have depleted. Silence, save for her feet coming down on old leaves, surrounds her.

From where the cabins sit deserted, Darcy hears a slight rustling. A second pair of footfalls. Her heart accelerates, pounding harshly against her ribs.

Then, from the space between two cabins, a figure emerges. He is caught by a stream of light.

Darcy stops dead, her tongue completely dry.

The shadow moves towards her deliberately, but she is stunned. Unable to tell her feet to budge.

"What are you doing out here?" the shadow asks, stepping into another lit patch. "It's late and there could be a serial killer on the loose, hellbent on murdering sex-crazed young women."

Smiling, Darcy closes the gap between her and Bucky. She looks up at him and sees he's smiling too. "We won," she gloats, her heart still thrashing. "You know what that means."

"Ugh, you only want me for my body," Bucky complains, pulling Darcy into his arms.

She rests her head against his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist. His heart beats erratically against her cheek. "You came up with this year's wager. Don't cry now you've lost." She disentangles herself from him and grins. "Strip for me."

He pouts, taking her hand and leading her towards one of the empty cabins. They pick a new one each week. "Does it have to be to music?" he asks, holding the creaky door open to the farthest cabin.

"Yes. Again, you decided the stakes," she says, glancing around at the room. Bucky must have set it up earlier. There are battery-powered lanterns in ever corner. Several clean blankets in the centre of the floor. An ancient boombox. A box of condoms Darcy knows is almost empty. She turns and watches him take off his shoes. "You had to think this might happen."

"I was just so sure of my kids this summer," he says. He kneels in front of the boombox, cassette tape in hand. "Sit on the blankets and prepare yourself for a show, Darce."

"Yes, sir," she says happily, kicking off her flip-flops and settling on the floor.

"Before I start," he says, fiddling with the boombox, "what  _is_ a DA?"

"It's an abbreviation," she explains. "It stands for  _duck's ass_."

Rotating his neck, he frowns, bewildered. "What the hell does that even mean?"

"It's just a hairstyle. We'll have to watch  _Grease_ before the semester starts. Everyone's got a DA in  _Grease_. Now, get back to work, loser. I want this night to really begin!"

Bucky presses a button on the boombox and stands. A slow R&B beat enters the cabin. The instant the notes reach Darcy, she collapses into laughter. Ignoring her, Bucky tugs off his t-shirt, revealing his stomach one inch at a time. Once it's totally off, he tosses it over to Darcy. She catches it and lifts it to her nose. The fabric smells of Bucky, a scent she hasn't been able to indulge in much over the past months. Lowering the shirt, Darcy focuses on Bucky's swaying body.

He is really going all-out on the striptease. A sheen from the humidity covers his tanned muscles, and with each move his skin seems to glow as the light hits him. She stares in fascination and awe. How is she so lucky to spend her night watching one of the handsomest boys she's ever seen take his clothes off for her?

Reaching for the buckle on his belt, Bucky smiles at her and shakes his head. Heat spreads through her as he whips the belt from its loops. It's been a week since they were last in one of these cabins. A week is too long and she is ready—far beyond ready, if she's honest with herself—for this. So ready, in fact, that she can't bear waiting any longer.

Darcy jumps to her feet and nearly collides with Bucky. He catches her, confusion in his watery blue eyes, but she doesn't give him an opportunity to ask questions. She kisses him fiercely. One of those all-consuming kisses. One of those kisses that would end with her swallowing him whole if she could manage it.

Her fingers go to the button on his jeans. She pops it free and tugs at the zipper. With his help, she gets his trousers and boxer-briefs off before pulling away to get rid of her own clothes.

They stand inches apart, panting like hot, wild dogs.

"I don't think I tell you enough," he says, creeping closer, reaching out to cup her hip. His other hand goes to her cheek. She stills at his touch, staring into his eyes. "But you are beautiful."

"And I don't think I tell  _you_ enough," she says, "but you are a giant sap."

Smiling knowingly, Bucky presses his mouth to Darcy's. His tongue parts her lips. Impatiently, Darcy drags him to the floor and rests on top of him. His warmth settles against her skin. Blindly locating the box of condoms, she takes one out and tears it open, gripping him and slipping one on.

He hisses at her roughness, but soon that hiss becomes a groan as she slides down his length.

"Oh, fuck . . . slow," he says, taking her waist. She can still hear the mixtape serenading them. "I don't want this to be over too soon."

Darcy bends and kisses him, moaning into his mouth as his hips jerk upward.

_Slow_ , she reminds herself as she feels herself tightening already.  _Slow_.

When it is finished, she rests her sweaty head on Bucky's sweaty chest. He strokes her back the way that makes her sleepy.

"Did you really not like me when we first met?" he asks.

"Are you kidding?" Darcy lifts herself up and plants her elbow on the blankets to support her cheek in her palm. Bucky looks up at her expectantly. "I hated you. What kind of imbecile is capable of causing a fire while microwaving  _popcorn_?"

"But you don't hate me now?"

For someone whose confidence borders on arrogance, Bucky has these moments of pure self-doubt. They melt Darcy's heart.

She strokes his nose, smiling when his eyes close automatically. "No, Bucky. I don't hate you now."

She hasn't hated Bucky for two years.

After the incident that fateful winter, Darcy avoided Bucky on campus when she could. But then summer came around, and Darcy found herself working alongside the very boy she vowed to hate for eternity. At the beginning of camp, Bucky approached her and offered a wager for the Lake Games. If his team won, she had to try her hardest to like him. Just a little bit. If her team won, she could hate him for as long as they both lived.

Over the summer, Darcy quickly understood what drew everyone— _everyone_ —to Bucky. All the girls, all the counsellors, were in love with him. So many wished he would look their way. So many more wished he would confess his undying love for them.

Halfway to the Games, she realised something: she didn't need the wager, because she already didn't hate him. And one night she met him in the woods and told him this. She said the bet was off. The wager was pointless.

He agreed. He said that he wasn't happy with the wager anymore anyway.

_What's wrong with the wager_? she had asked.

He had said,  _It's simple, really._

_What's simple_?

He had stepped towards her, and her heart had started thumping loudly.  _I'm not okay with you hating me for eternity_.

With that, he kissed her. And she kissed him back.

When they returned to the camp the following summer, they decided to pretend they weren't together. It would be more fun. Another bet was decided and a false rivalry was born.

Steve is the only other person on the grounds who knows about their relationship. He keeps a close eye over the pair during the day, but lets his guard down at night, which is how Darcy and Bucky have managed to escape to the abandoned cabins during the summer months.

Darcy lies back down. Pressing her ear to Bucky's chest, she listens for the steady beats of his heart.

"It's almost one o'clock," Bucky says, checking the time on his phone.

She snuggles closer to him. "I don't want to sleep in that bed tonight. Let's just stay here."

"We go back to normal tomorrow," he says. He kisses the top of her head and lifts her off. Standing, he offers her a hand.

She takes it and gets to her feet. "I know," she says, locating her clothes. "My mom's excited for you to stay with us. She's missed you."

"Not as much," Bucky says, slipping on his shirt, "as I've missed her cooking."

Bucky walks her back to her cabin. He kisses her urgently once more, and she almost loses herself in it, but he pulls away just in time. "See you in the morning," he says.

"Goodnight, Bucky."

She watches him go to his room. He looks back at her, smiling his happiest smile, before disappearing inside.

Natasha is thankfully passed out when Darcy wriggles into her cabin. She changes into her pyjamas without worrying too much about noise and gets into bed, her mind on tomorrow.


End file.
